


The Boy in the Shack

by E_K_Hannila



Series: Caurinus [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Implied Neglect, Implied abuse, Kids, Meeting, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 06:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18845794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_K_Hannila/pseuds/E_K_Hannila
Summary: Sorry this is kinda poorly written, I'm very tired and wanted to share.Just to clear some things up, David is eleven/twelve, and Ian is a little past seven.





	The Boy in the Shack

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is kinda poorly written, I'm very tired and wanted to share.  
> Just to clear some things up, David is eleven/twelve, and Ian is a little past seven.

A rock flew by David’s head, nearly hitting him – the one that followed it struck him on the back of his neck, scratching deep enough to send a trickle of blood under his collar.

_Please, God, make them leave,_ he silently pleaded, running as fast as he could  and clutching his book bag to his chest .  _I’ll do anything._

Another rock hit him, a much bigger one this time – it felt as if a full-on brick had been lobbed at him. He fell to the ground briefly before regaining his balance, and kept running.

He swung around a corner, out of sight of the other kids, and darted into the back yard of a run-down house. Hiding behind a heap of scrap metal and rotten firewood, he was finally able to take a breath.

He ran a hand over the back of his neck, wincing as it came away stained red.  _Dad’s gonna kill me for ruining another shirt._

A  crumpled can hit him in the head, and he looked up to see a skinny boy,  much  younger than himself, standing on the back porch of the house. 

“What are you doing here?” David said. 

Th e boy stared at him blankly, then picked up another can and pulled back his arm to throw it. 

David stood up, and the boy lowered his arm, standing perfectly still. He pointed to David, then to the house, and headed inside, leaving the door open behind him.

_Well, he doesn’t really look like he could kill me,_ David reasoned, following the boy. 

The inside of the house was barely better than the outside. Wallpaper curled away from the dry-rotting planks, the ceiling dripped and sagged, and the floor was covered in grime so thick, David’s sneakers left indents.

The boy went to a sink, turning the tap, and to David’s surprise, clean water flowed from the faucet. The boy filled a relatively clean cup and handed it to David, watching him intently.

David hesitantly drank from the cup – the water didn’t taste off at all, so the plumbing was probably all right.

“Thank you,” he said with a polite smile, handing back the now-empty cup.

The boy smiled awkwardly, mimicking David’s lopsided grin.

“Well, I – I should be going,” David mumbled. The boy only continued staring and smiling. 

_Okay, he’s clearly dim,_ David thought as he turned to leave, all too happy to leave the eerie house, but before he could take a step, a hand shot out, grabbing the back of his shirt. 

_Don’t move. Don’t move._

The boy came around in front of him, tapping the back of his own neck. He cocked his head in concern.

“Oh, I just got… hurt,” David replied. “Ah, heck. Someone threw a rock at me.”

The boy furrowed his brow, then started to tug at the collar of David’s shirt. David pushed him away, and the boy panicked and pushed him back, though there was hardly any force behind it.

“I can deal with the blood myself!” David snapped. Still, the boy didn’t respond, instead sinking slowly to the floor and crying loudly.

“Oh, darn,” David said, kneeling next to the boy and trying to calm him. “No, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m sorry, please be quiet.”

The boy sniffled loudly at him, wiping his eyes with a dirty wrist. He hesitantly reached for the bloody spot on the back of David’s neck; this time David didn’t stop him.

“Here, lemme help you with that,” David said, unbuttoning his shirt and reluctantly taking it off. The boy went to the sink, grabbing a scrub brush and a salt shaker, and started scrubbing away at the stain. Within a few moments, the fabric was almost perfectly clean, with only a faint brown patch that was almost invisible.

Unfortunately, it still had to dry.  So for the next half hour, David was going to be without a shirt. Suffice to say, this was not a pleasant situation for him. 

He sat down on the counter, unwilling to sit on the moth-bitten couch or, god forbid, the floor. The boy hopped up next to him, watching the irritation on his face, and without warning, took off his own shirt as well.

David stared at the wiry kid, trying to figure out what exact logic he had followed. Then the kid smiled, and David burst out laughing.

 

David walked down the sidewalk, wincing with every step. He’d made it home without being chased again, and his dad hadn’t noticed the back of his shirt, but a few… choice words during dinner had gotten him thrown out on his rear, with a few welts to remember by.

So here he was. Walking.

And by some wild chance, he found himself in the front yard of the boy’s house.

_Maybe he has a spare bed. Does he have a bed?_

He knocked at the door hesitantly, and was met almost instantly by the boy, who was still shirtless. He tackled David, wrapping his arms around the older boy’s waist and hugging him tight.

David patted him on the shoulder, shuffling inside with the boy still glued to his hip.

“So what’s your name?” David asked. The boy didn’t respond, only fidgeting with a bent spoon.

David sighed and started searching drawers. Eventually he found a torn piece of yellow paper that had a name on it – Ian McAllister.

“I guess that’s it,” he said to himself, reading further. At one point, he stopped, staring at his hands in embarrassment. He turned to look back at Ian, who had left and was making a lot of noise upstairs.

“Sorry for getting mad,” he said. “Didn’t know you were deaf.”


End file.
